


Business Before Pleasure

by Rochelle_Rochelle



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Joanlock - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Rochelle/pseuds/Rochelle_Rochelle





	Business Before Pleasure

She awoke to the warmth of his breath ... the gentle scrape of his stubble ... the soft caress of his lips rounding her bare shoulder. A content hum rose from somewhere deep within her; her arms moved to hold him. Joan's head tilted to stroke the top of his head with her cheek. "What kept you?" she murmured. "I fell asleep waiting for you." 

Sherlock's reply, "I'm sorry," was muted by the press of his mouth against her skin. He nuzzled at the thin strap of her negligee, making his way slowly down its length to the sheer grey-blue gauziness that barely covered her. Nose crushed against her, he breathed in the inimitable sweet scent that was hers alone. Traveling across the almost transparent blue haze of cloth, he gently pushed the material away to unveil her breast. His mouth lowered onto it, lips firm on her tender skin, tongue tip and teeth working in consort. Watson moaned softly. The sound enveloped him and seeped deep into his soul supplanting all thought and intention except for his desire to please her. 

The need to feel his lips on hers overwhelmed her. Joan took him and guided him to her. Raw emotion showed on her face. No veneer, no mask. Her eyes spoke eloquently for her. The first kiss of the night ran straight to passion. Joined hard and deep, they attempted to sate the thirst they'd ignored during the day for the sake of the work.

Air eventually became a necessity. Sherlock lay his head upon her chest, there finding comfort from all the days battles. And there he whispered his response to her now almost forgotten question. "I had a bit of breakthrough on the case." Her other breast lay enticingly before him, the sheer material doing little to mask her excitement. "Turns out, Mr. Kenworths' credentials are as false as he is." He caressed her breast through the thin slip of cloth. Not bothering to uncover her, his mouth quickly sought her out through the material.

Joan wriggled under him with the joy of the sensation, her hand pressed him closer to her. "That explains his vagueness when you questioned him about ....." A sharp intake of breath replaced her words as his hand found its way beneath her and squeezed her tight. She exhaled ".... his years at Princeton." 

"Yes." His torso lifted off her as he reached to the back of his tshirt and began pulling it over his head. As the material lifted and revealed his form, Joan reached to touch, her hand pressed firm and flat against the hard muscles of his abdomen, thumbs following the trail of fine hair at its center. She moved upwards across his chest, enjoying the hirsute strength of each ripple of muscle as he moved. The tshirt removed and cast aside, he hovered over her savoring her caresses.

Sherlock's eyes locked onto hers, smoldering with want. He controlled himself long enough to explain his discovery. "We both knew he was lying. A little digging uncovered his true identity, Joseph Ritz." His mundane sentence carried the lilt of a love poem for her. 

She fell deeper into his eyes; she had longed for this. Throughout that endless day glances were exchanged, hands brushed, haptic signals given and received, that left no uncertainty as to their desire. 

Joan pulled on the bow of ribbon that kept the front of her nightgown closed. She bared her body before him. His eyes greedily took in every detail in the dim light of her reading lamp: the firm roundness of her breasts, the curve of her slim waist, the small swoop of her hips where her sheer panties hung precariously, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of what lay between her silken thighs. His breath quickened. Joan's fingertips invited him down towards her waiting body.

The thrill of skin on skin seduced both of them, lips joined once more in passion and Mr. Ritz was momentarily forgotten. Eventually gasping for air, Joan buried her face in his neck, filling her lungs with his scent. Sherlock's hand roved down her bare torso, her hips, her thighs, and found their way back to her waist, positioning her flat beneath him onto the bed.

Joan whispered, "Wait...." Sherlock, one to obey her every command, froze. She continued with a breathy drawl, "Ritz? Like in David Ritz, the victim's accountant?"

Sherlock expelled the breath he held and gave her a pleased smile. "Mmhmm.... " his hand continued its trek around to her scarcely covered bottom and moved beneath the scant material. Joan's eyes closed at his touch, her hips raising to meet his body. She felt his response against her. The hard outline of his arousal evident through the material of his sweatpants. 

He struggled to get the words out, "I texted Detective Bell with the information. For now it is ... out ....of .... our ... hands." His fingers came around to her front, moving beneath the gauzy nothingness of her panties and began to peel the garment carefully away and down her hips. She assisted by wiggling them down the rest of the way, kicking them off and turning her attention to him. 

In her hands, his sweatpants met a demise similar to her panties, except Joan was a bit less gentle in pulling them down his hips. She reached for him. His groan was her initial reward. Sherlock moving his hand between her legs was her second. His fingers stroked the slickness, parting her. She clenched him to her, gasping and pivoting; her response spurred his movement downwards. Moving his face between her legs, his tongue thrust deep and she groaned loudly as he went further. He, too, had been waiting all day for this moment.

The vibration at the side of the bed at first went unnoticed until the unmistakeable light and tone of an incoming call pried their attention away from each other. They tried to ignore it. 

When first they embarked on a physical relationship, Sherlock and Joan did so only with only one caveat, that it would never interfere with their work. Work would always come first. This call was a harsh test of their resolve. 

Joan, against every craving of her being, reached for the phone. "It's Bell."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head onto her thigh, trying to bring his breathing under control. Joan placed the phone before him, "It's alright ... take it," she urged him, her own breathing rapid. Her words floated towards him in silky seductiveness, "Postponing will only make it so much more pleasurable when we resume." 

"Watson... " he pleaded. She held his phone in front of him. Sherlock grudgingly took the phone, moved off her and laid on his back beside her. "Detective?" his voice sharp.

Joan lifted on one elbow and surveyed his naked form, hoping that the call would prove merely a pause and not a cessation of the night's activities. 

"Yes." .... "Good." "I see..." Sherlock listened and nodded. "Watson and I are in the middle of something rather important at the moment..." His eyes met hers. "We can be at the precinct in about an hour?" He looked at her, seeking her agreement. She nodded her head and extended her hand onto his thigh, stroking her approval. "Yes. If you can hold off questioning him, we will be there in an hour or so."

A small grunt escaped his lips as her hand moved further up his inner thigh. "No, no, yes, we're fine," he assuaged Bell's concerns and said his goodbyes. 

Joan bent over him, placing an open mouth kiss near his navel. "See ... " she laid a trail of smaller kisses as she spoke, "We can be adults and delay gratification ... I take it Ritz is in custody."

"Yesssss," Sherlock suddenly grabbed her by her shoulders and quickly flipped both of them so she lay beneath him. Watson gasped and laughed at the same time at the unexpectedness of his actions. "No more delays," he growled as he pressed into her and she happily responded. Thus joined, they began the evening's slow and rhythmic final dance, all thought of crime and clues and responsibilities evaporating in their steady movement. 

The first time they had come to this position, had been a moment of unbridled lust. A spark ignited between them that neither expected or attempted to stop. Sherlock and Joan found the naturalness of the relationship they had as friends and partners carried over into their bedroom activities. The abandon to act as they wished, ask for what they wanted and give open handedly made the sex joyous and freeing. They talked after that first time, neither wanting to give up what they had shared and came to an understanding. It only got better after that. 

They reveled in each other's thrusts and grinds, sensations quickly increasing from a gentle sweetness to a lustful roar. A frenetic need for release escalated until her uncontrollable orgasms prompted his own wild explosion. 

They lay together, satisfied, spent, as pulses of pleasure still rippled between them. 

 

\--------------  
An hour and twenty-five minutes later, they sauntered into the precinct, showered, attired in suit and dress, calm, collected and prepared to interrogate their suspect.


End file.
